MASHED Monday Author Interview: Alex Colvin
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Alex Colvin writes the story, “Wrath of the Buttery Bastard-Taters” in our upcoming anthology, Mashed : The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror. “Wrath of the Buttery Bastard-Taters” is the story of GMO’s gone overboard. What happens when a couple’s romantic dinner turns into a horror show?
Please tell us a little bit about yourself?
I’ve been writing since I was eight, when I crafted ‘Squirrel Man vs the Terror Turtles.’ Thankfully, that atrocious volume has been lost. Older and wiser, I managed an M.A. in English and write humor fiction when I can find the time.
What attracted you to submitting your story to MASHED: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror?
The anthology, quite simply, was fascinating. The mix of genres intrigued me. Horror, erotica, and humour? I didn’t know that could be done. Food seemed the best subject for executing such a versatile and ambitious project; I just had to try it. Also, the guidelines and website were refreshingly open and unpretentious and I was charmed by the very concept. They had me hooked right away.
For your story “Wrath of the Buttery Bastard-Taters” what was your inspiration?
My loathing of instant mashed potatoes inspired me. I was fed them throughout my childhood and hated them passionately. I once played a game with a friend where we had to come up with the most unpleasant sensation possible, and I won handily by describing the feeling of vomiting up a bellyful of instant mashed potatoes. After that, I knew I had tapped into something culturally reviled.
Influences:
When did you first discover that you wanted to be a writer?
When I was a little kid. I loved writing stories and inventing my own characters and scenarios. That way, I got to see exactly the kinds of stories I wanted.
Did you have any writing mentors?
Yes, I was lucky enough to be taught everything I know by the encouraging and critically-acclaimed Nicolas Billon when I was in undergrad. Bless him.
Who are your favorite authors? What are your favorite books?
Mordecai Richler, Hunter S. Thompson, and Cormac McCarthy are my favorites. Richler and Thompson for their senses of humor, McCarthy for the incredible ways he manipulates and re-configures the English language. My favorite books are Barney’s Version, The Moon’s a Balloon, and The Road.
What films or books have most influenced you as an author?
Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas influenced me a lot. It was punchy, brief, explicit, and thoughtful without getting lost in exposition. No filler and no wasted time, which are the kisses of death for novels in my humble opinion.
Outside of Horror, what other genre’s do you write in?
Humor is the only genre I’ve ever seriously tried. I’d never tried horror until this project, and I found it really difficult to do! It’s tricky to pace and is harder to gauge than humor.
Is there anything else that has influenced you as a writer?
Overhearing supremely boring conversations at bus stops or restaurants taught me how not to write dialogue and what not to write about; stories need to be different from daily life, if only in the minor details.
What is the first book that made you cry?
Ha! The Animorphs series! I think I was 10 years old. I cried when the protagonists’ identities got exposed to their enemies and they had to leave their lives to hide out in the woods to keep up the resistance! It was a turning point in the series from an underground resistance to total war, and the shift was quite depressing. Plus, I hate camping. So reading about the Animorphs having to do it for survival hit me at a gut level.
On Writing:
How do you describe your writing style?
Insincerely earnest. I like to have very ironic and wary characters who deal with absurd circumstances in a straightforward manner. I’d like to think my style is witty and dryly charming, but we’ll have to see what my readers think.
What advice would you give to new writers just getting started?
Play to your interests. If you’re interested in sports, write about sports. If you love country music, write about that. That’s how you’ll craft work you care about. And use something like duotrope or submission grinder to keep apace with calls for submissions. Otherwise you’re stumbling in the dark.
What part of writing do you find the most difficult?
Ha, I find all of it difficult! But fun! I suppose it’s tricky to find the best way to tell a story. Which character perspective to use, which mode of storytelling works best. It takes a lot of false starts to get a story going.
What do you hope your readers take away from your stories?
My single goal is to make people laugh with my work. If that happens, then I’ve done what I could ever hope to do.
What is your next big writing project fans should be on the lookout for?
No idea, but I’ll keep all three of them posted. Har har.
Write a 6-word story, GO!
The second man decided against jumping.
Where else on the internet can you be found?
WordPress
And now, here’s a special preview of Alex’s story in MASHED!
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“The Wrath of the Buttery Bastard-Taters”
I came home to find the apartment lights dimmed and old jazz standards playing over the wireless speakers. Before I’d even kicked my shoes off, my boyfriend came over with a glass of wine. “Happy six months, sweetheart,” He said.
My ‘thank you’ was wordless. I said it through a long, slow kiss that made sure he knew what was on my mind. The same thing must have been on his mind as well because the next thing I knew he had me pinned against a wall and was working my dress off while running his hands all over me. We didn’t stay there for long. Well, I stayed pressed against the wall. He spun me around and flattened me against it and then took me from behind while running his nails down my back and spanking me. That way is my absolute favorite. Neither of us lasts very long when he takes me like that.
When we’d finished, he kissed me. “We should start on dinner while it’s hot,” he said.
I agreed and fetched the glass of wine Daniel had hastily set down before I’d jumped him.
“I made all your favorites,” Daniel said, putting our plates on the table. “Peppercorn steaks in a whiskey sauce, beet salad, grilled asparagus and mashed potatoes.”
I went to the table where he’d laid out a perfect candlelit dinner. Everything he said was there, and it looked gorgeous. Oh, wait. No. Something was missing. “Lovely,” I gave his hand a squeeze. “Where are the mashed potatoes? I’ll bring them out.”
“I put them in the oven to keep them warm.”
So I opened the oven door and found the bowl. It had a lid on it and was perfectly warm to my touch. I set it on the counter and took the lid off, determined to sneak a finger full of mashed potatoes before setting them on the table. I set the lid down on the counter and peered at the taters.
Oh.
Oh god.
Please no.
I was too horrified to scream. I stood in frozen terror at what lay in the bowl before me. It looked like drywall filler. Could it be what I thought it was? I prayed that it wasn’t. I had to ask. “So you made mashed potatoes, sweetie?” I called, trying to sound casual.
“Well, instant mashed potatoes.”
I went numb with fear, unable to speak, while Daniel continued, “I only had so much time to prepare everything, and it was the easiest corner to cut. Plus they were on sale! I’d made them with tons of butter and milk, so we probably won’t even notice the difference!”
I doubted that.
My childhood revolved around this same prepackaged inedible muck and I hate it passionately. The batch Daniel made seemed no different. It simultaneously looked both chalky and gluey. Daniel must have thought they looked godforsaken too, because he added, “the color is a bit off, but it smells lovely.”
I said nothing, determined not to spoil the mood. I was touched at what he’d done and didn’t want to shut him down tonight. So I set the gloppy false-potatoes on the table and vowed to ignore them. Daniel and I sat down for dinner and I helped myself to the dinner options that were genuinely delicious, and not simply pretending to be real food.
But the taters were as easy to ignore as a rotting corpse draped over our dinner table. I ate everything on my plate that wasn’t touching them. I was almost done with my plate and thought victory was in my grasp, but Daniel was too proud of his efforts to let them die, however much they deserved to. “Here, have some potatoes, love,” Daniel said, dropping a scoopful onto my plate with a watery splat.
If you think instant mashed potatoes look disgusting in a bowl, when they share a plate with real food, they look like an abomination that could not be of human creation. Nuzzled between Daniel’s peppercorn steak and asparagus, it looked pathetic and undead. As the puke-worthy goo settled onto my plate, it seemed to be begging me to finish it and put it out of its miserable existence, one painful mouthful at a time. I found myself hating it for existing and considered avoiding it and everything they touched on my plate. I was just working up the courage to tell Daniel that I couldn’t withstand an encounter with mushy wannabe-potatoes when he put a massive forkful of the sludge in his mouth and smiled. “Mmm,” He said.
His smile vanished as he tried to chew the abominable substance and discovered its paradoxical texture that managed to be simultaneously dusty and moist. He gagged, valiantly fighting to chew and managed to swallow the mouthful. “Delicious,” he said, almost sounding sincere.
I love Daniel dearly and I decided he couldn’t go through this alone. We were partners to the end, and I had to at least try it for him. Out of love, I took a moderate forkful, made peace with God and put it in my mouth.
Thanks for joining us for #MASHEDMONDAYS, Find the rest of Alex’s story and more sensually sinister tales inside MASHED: The Culinary Delights of Twisted Erotic Horror
Find more #MASHEDMONDAY Author Interviews here!
